Questions

Jeremy came around unable to see. He lifted his head. It felt like it was covered in something. A bag of some sort. He was sat on a chair, his hands were bound behind its back rest and his legs were bound to the legs of the chair. He struggled to get free, but the chair seemed bolted to the floor.

"Hello?" he called out.

Nothing came in response. Somewhere behind him he heard a door creak open. Footsteps walked around to his left. He doubled over in pain as something solid connected with his stomach.

"Hello." It was the voice of the thug that he had confronted earlier. Jeremy couldn’t summon a reply. "This is how things are going to work. You will tell us what we want to know, and we’ll let you go. You don’t tell us what we want to know and we’ll beat you to a bloody pulp."

"You’d do well to listen up, friend, he’s not messing around." Jeremy heard a different voice to his right.

Slowly regaining his wind, Jeremy managed a "I don’t know-" before he took another hit to the stomach.

"Now now, don’t start out with lies. We know you work for the librarians." Jeremy thought the voice came from the left but his head was spinning.

"Yes, I work at the library," Jeremy spat out in desperation. "Please stop hitting me."

"So then you know what we’re looking for."

"I- well." Jeremy thought that this seemed to obvious, but he was willing to clutch at any straw. "A book?"

"Of course a book." The voice was derisory. "Where is it?"

"Which one?" Jeremy screamed as the blunt force connected with his body.

"Don’t play with us, friend, it’s all over when we know what we need to."

Through tears Jeremy sobbed, "I don’t know what this is about. Please. I’d tell you anything."

"This is a new technique," The thug on the left seemed to say to the other. "They’re normally stoic to the end."

"Oh god," thought Jeremy. "I’m going to die here."

"I say we make him shit his pants," said the thug on the right.

"What?" Jeremy whimpered.

"Yeah, sounds good for a laugh."

Jeremy felt a belt being strapped around his midriff.

"See you later, fella. We’ll be back when you’re used to your own stench."

The door closed behind him. Jeremy thrashed about in the chair, trying to get free.

At first the sensation was unusual but not unpleasant. A thrum, pulsating through his guts. Then he began to feel something else. "No," he said. The feeling grew. He was losing control. "No!" He felt the urgency rising, the thrum’s force increasing. "NO!" But it was too late. A slimy sensation crept from between his buttocks down under his legs.

Jeremy started to sob. He was overwhelmed with feelings of helplessness and fear. Why would someone do this to him? What on earth could they want at the library? Slowly the smell of his shit permeated the air. He heard the door click behind him.

"No! Please! No more! I don’t know what you want." He was sure his pleas would go unheard.

"It’s OK, Jeremy. It’s over."

"Carol?"

"God. Who dropped that one?"

"Fiona?"

"Hiya, Jer."

"What’s going on?"

"I’ll explain in a bit. We need to get you out of here, first, though."

Carol and Fiona untied Jeremy, starting with the belt, freed his head and helped him to his feet.